


Unsteady

by fourredfruits



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Violence, Everyone is a little bit oblivious, Flashbacks, Gen, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:28:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3657225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourredfruits/pseuds/fourredfruits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hold, hold on, hold onto me<br/>'Cause I'm a little unsteady, a little unsteady<br/>Mama, come here, approach the pier<br/>Daddy, I'm alone, 'cause this house don't feel like home</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Sometimes, Tony looked back on his life, (not that he often did this, only sometimes) and felt his little old heart clenching tightly at the inexplicable sense of nostalgia and wistfulness.

It was laughable how memories of things that he swore he would never miss in a million years turned out to be the ones that stayed with him most vividly. They slept under the heavy lids of his mind's eyes and came awake at the subtlest provocation, at times even without any, and when they did, Tony suddenly found himself sitting alone with his legs crossed in the corridor of that huge, hungry mansion, watching dust dancing in the streaming sunlight for hours.

Or he was sixteen and trudging through the deep snow, his breathing shaky and shallow, one of Dad's fancy straight razors in his pocket, all the while fiercely whispering to himself in an endless mantra, _this is it, this is it, this is it, this is..._

Or he was on his rickety bed back in the boarding school, feeling dirty and sick and wrong wherever he let the senior boy touch him but simultaneously feeling self-satisfied because Howard would finally regret, regret his decision to send Tony away like he couldn't bother anymore. Dread and satisfaction squeezed inside his stomach wildly and he curled around the exquisite discomfort, indulging in the masochistic pleasure his imagination provided for the moment.

 

On the other hand, he didn't remember Maria's face when she pulled him in and tickled him on that particular summer day, so much joy and affection in her soft laughter, calling him _'you naughty boy'_ and then _'my sweet baby'_ as if she couldn't quite decide which one he was. It was one of his few happy childhood moments and for the love of God, he couldn't remember what she looked like, what kind of clothes she wore or what she smelled like.

Unfortunately, he didn't forget the long hours he spent with his fingers hovering reverently over the glass pane encasing Captain America's cowl, uniform, proudly glinting medals, notebook that's slightly worn around the edges and pictures. He used to stand there and look at the handsome face. The face of the one man who deserved Howard Stark's respect, admiration and love. Captain America's eyes seemed kind, though it could as well have been Tony's imagination, and seemed to say, _it's alright, you are good enough_. So he stood there unmoving for as long as it took the voice inside his head to fade into a dull hum.

 

So really, it couldn't be helped if every now and then his eyes decided to follow Steve a little bit too closely. It wasn't even a conscious thing, it was more like a strange mix of a flashback, wistful attraction and an irresistible invitation to poke at an old wound just to if it was still sensitive. The sharp twinge that followed it was startling and somehow addicting. At least, he thought he had enough decency left in him to hide it from others. Well, apparently he expected too much from himself.

Tony was in the common kitchen, sipping his first cup of coffee for the day, when Steve walked in. Steve was fresh out of a shower after his usual morning visit to the gym and had a towel slung over his shoulder. He was fully dressed, though, because Steve never roamed around the common floor with anything less than that.

It must have been his new hair cut or something because when Steve greeted Tony with a casual nod, Tony was struck by how Steve looked so young, how he looked exactly like he had in the pictures Tony openly treasured as a child and secretly as a teenager, and not a day older. It felt so surreal Tony wondered, if he went to see himself in a mirror right now, would he find a small dark-haired boy with eyes too smart for his own good? like thirty-years of his life had all been a dream?

 

He hypnotically watched as Steve poured himself a cup of coffee and snorted at Clint's joke with a frown between his brows and a smile on his lips. It wasn't until Steve walked out to join Clint on the couch that Tony turned his head to find Bucky staring at him from the island.

For a fraction of a second, Tony felt like he had been caught molesting an innocent child or something as appalling and disgusting. But then he quickly realized he hadn't done anything actually and that Bucky didn't have an ability to read his mind. So he carefully took another sip from the mug and he arched one eyebrow at the guy.

 

"Got something to say?"

There was an unreadable expression on Bucky's face or maybe it was a plain lack of expression. The silence almost started to make Tony wonder if Bucky was planning to beat him up for leering at his best friend when Bucky finally dropped his gaze and replied,

"No."

Tony wasn't sure what Bucky thought he saw then and there but even if Bucky judged him to be a creepy rich old bastard who offered attractive people to live under his roof to ogle them —I mean, he didn't pick them himself but couldn't deny the fact every single one of them was easy on the eye—he didn't show it which Tony was grateful for.

 

-

 

Although, after that, Tony occasionally felt Bucky's watchful eyes on him. He thought he should find it threatening as probably meant to be. Yet, whenever he looked up to find the pair of grey eyes speckled blue under the dark lashes, he couldn't summon any wariness or fear in himself so instead, he gave a self-deprecating half-smile tinged with helpless fondness in return.

Because it was impossible not to like him a little when Tony knew the kid was just too damn good underneath his more than justifiable post-Hydra paranoia and the nonchalant shoulder shrugs.

 

The very first time Tony had him down in the workshop to tinker with his badly messed-up arm, it was almost painful to see Bucky visibly struggling to keep himself still on his seat, all the muscles in his body remained tightly wound up as if bracing for absolutely gut-wrenching agony at any moment. Though when Tony asked if he wanted him to stop, Bucky shook his head determinedly. It took two more silent confirmations before he understood Bucky needed to know he could do this. Throughout the whole thing, Bucky clenched his teeth so tightly it was a wonder they didn't crack. 

When Tony decided both of them suffered enough stress for a year, he told Bucky they were done for today. The kid blinked at him through hazy eyes and sweat soaked strands of hair and politely murmured, "Thank you."

There was a hint of surprise in his voice when Tony automatically responded with, "You're welcome"

The corner of Bucky's lips rose in a barely perceptible, not-quite smile. The next moment, suddenly his eyes fluttered closed and Tony was left with a former Hydra's most efficient killing machine passed out in his workshop.

 

After that, it was really, really hard to look at James "Bucky" Barnes as the deadly assassin that he indubitably was.

Bucky didn't so much as flinch nowadays when Tony worked on the metal arm, only the faintest sign of uneasiness that flickered in his eyes once in a while. It was strange how Tony felt kind of, well, proud of him. Probably another sign of getting old, he thought to himself.  

 

-

 

The thing about Steve Rogers and Tony Stark was that they were friends but sadly not the kind of friends who brought the best out of each other. Despite his tendency to blame himself for everything (because he was self-centered like that), Tony knew it wasn't all on him this time.

For some mysterious reason, Steve was a bit more susceptible to anger when he was around Tony which astounded everyone including Steve himself. It wasn't anything bad though, since Steve Rogers was pretty much immune to vice. And everyone was a bit more prone to violent reaction when around Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, so no one could really blame the good Captain.

Nonetheless, it was not to say that it didn't hurt.

"I got all of us out, and alive, didn't I?"

Tony gritted his teeth.

"Only because you were lucky which you had no idea you would be at the time. You risked not only your life but a civilian's life, Tony."

Steve's voice was hard and brittle. Tony saw Steve's tightly clenched fist on the table and felt his own anger rising together with a sickening sense of guilt. He knew what he had done. But he just _couldn't_ leave Steve behind. There was no time for him to bring the last civilian to safety and then come back for Steve, the gigantic building would have completely collapsed to dust by then and Captain America would have gone with it, forever, this time.

Steve's order had been crystal clear. Even if he hadn't directly given an order, Tony would've known what the man would've said. Of course Captain America wouldn't risk the lives of his teammate and a civilian in order to save his own life. But, God, how could he expect Tony to leave him to his death?

Tony knew he was risking more than his own life at the time. He knew he had no fucking right to decide to go back for Steve when he had a helpless teenage girl under his arm, not when the whole building was ready to bury her alive in a minute, not when she could've made it out of there in mere ten seconds.

Tony pushed it all aside in his mind. Captain America couldn't die.

 

He knew Steve wouldn't be happy about not following orders but now that Steve clearly illustrated how unhappy he felt about Tony saving his life, it just felt so fucking unfair.

"To save _your_ life, Jesus. Show some gratitude. Or is this how they did it back in your time?"

Steve's voice sounded like it could cut through stone when he hissed out his next words.

"No, Tony. You didn't do it because you wanted to save my life. You did it because you thought Captain America was more important than you or the girl."

 

Tony instinctively snarled back without really taking in the meaning of the words ( _what the hell was that supposed to mean?_ ). At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to punch Steve in his holier-than-thou face. He also absolutely hated how the cold look in the other man's eyes felt like a stab in his guts.

"Fuck you, Rogers. I happen to possess human emotions and do not actually feel good about leaving my teammate to his death by premature burial. Well, if you're trying to change that, congratulation. 'Cause you're doing an excellent job making me want to go back in time and leave your self-righteous ass to rot in there!"

 

Steve stood up from his seat abruptly as if he couldn't hold back his seething frustration anymore. It wasn't intended to be a physical threat, Tony knew it perfectly well, but the motion made him nauseous with sudden anxiety somehow. It reminded him too much of someone he never wanted to see in Steve.

"Are you that blind or don't you just want to see it?"

Steve didn't hesitate as he plunged his sharp words deep into Tony, who distractedly thought how it felt a little unreal to watch the other man's lips twisting in such bitterness.

 

"I'm sick and tired of you projecting your idea of Captain America on me all the time, all the bullshit that Howard told you. I'm not _that_ Captain America, Tony. No one is. You don't follow my orders because you're too busy following a dead man's orders in your head. You've survived them and managed not to get anyone killed so far but what about the next time? The next time Howard tell you how important Captain America is and how worthless you are, can you be sure – "

The question broke off unfinished when Tony felt more than saw a figure swiftly moving past him from behind. He hadn't even realized there were other people in the room. Tony lifted his head which he didn't remember lowering in the first place and found Bucky standing between Steve and him. Bucky had one of his hands on Steve's shoulder, pushing against the blond man ever so subtly.

 

"That's enough, Steve."

Steve stumbled back as if he'd been slapped hard. He blinked at Bucky with shock, confusion and other unreadable emotions. After a few seconds, Steve rasped out uncertainly,

"I'm sorry."

Then he turned and stalked out of the room at a speed only a super-soldier could manage. Bucky didn't follow him, to Tony's surprise, and instead he asked Tony with his usual inscrutable expression,

"Are you okay?"

Tony forced out a tired smile which he knew didn't look very convincing.

"Yeah."

There was a long stretch of silence during which Tony decidedly stared at the far corner of the table, trying hard not to think.

 

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Bucky asked again in that quiet, even voice after a while. And even though Tony was utterly terrified to be left alone right now, he nodded reflexively. There was only one way to answer to that kind of questions as far as he knew. You didn't say you were not okay and you didn't say you wanted them to stay. That was the rule.

 

He closed his eyes as he heard the muffled footsteps of the younger man walking away.

It was evidently a mistake, because as soon as he closed them, he was back in his father's study, shattered pieces of glass all over the carpeted floor and his heart hammering in his chest with terror. Every breath he took fluttered inside his throat as if they were afraid to get out. He wasn't supposed to be here. But he only wanted to see the pictures, he didn't meant to – .

He caught a glimpse of his pale face reflected in a shard near his feet before the door slammed open.

 _'I was too drunk'_ , Howard muttered somewhat defensively later.

Regardless, it didn't change the fact that the broken glass were cutting into his still-soft palms mercilessly that night and when his body instinctively tried to pull away, his father's expensive Italian leather shoe pushed his hand back down on the sharp pieces until he could hear a distinct crack. His arm twitched violently under the cruel pressure.

While his father shouted and furiously waved his arms, Tony cried and trembled uncontrollably because he was genuinely afraid his head was going to explode any minute now. His head felt too hot and swollen, his ears were ringing too hard to hear anything, he never felt so much pain before.

 

His hands hurt so goddamn much.

 

Out of nowhere, something cold and hard encircled his wrist, startling him at first.

Then Tony was looking down at his own palms which had no trace of blood or broken glass pieces on them. They didn't look so soft anymore but nevertheless they were clean and uninjured. When his eyes traveled hesitantly downwards, he recognized another set of hands which were gently holding up his own. The owner of those hands was unmistakable.

"Bucky?"

The answering voice came from somewhere unexpectedly close.

"Yeah, it's me."

Tony belatedly realized the two of them of huddling on the floor with their foreheads almost touching. The room was dark except for the dim light coming in from the hallway.

"I thought you left."

"I came back."

"Why?"

There was no answer for a few seconds before Bucky breathed out,

"I didn't want to leave you alone."

Tony blinked a couple of times to properly focus his gaze on Bucky's face. He didn't know what he expected to find there but it certainly wasn't the pained look as if the words had been punched out of the other man. Bucky's eyes appeared almost unholy blue from this angle.

It was at that point Tony's hands started to shake badly. He tried to keep them still because Bucky was watching and it must look all kinds of pathetic but fuck, they just wouldn't stop. Tony voiced out his distress.

"It's okay."

"No, it –, it's fucking not."

"Breathe."

"Fuck. I – "

"You can. Just breathe. Slowly."

"I –"

"Come on, darlin'."

Even midst the storm of panic and other confusing emotions his body was currently going through, the nickname managed to get a choked laugh out of him. Though a sharp twinge from his lungs that followed soon after made him grimace.

"What did you– just –?"

 

He didn't know what Bucky would've replied with because he nearly doubled over as soon as said it, shuddering and shaking uncontrollably through the sudden wash of chill that ran over his whole body. Tony felt the metal hand cradling the back of his head, the cool touch incredibly soothing against the feverish skin over there. Bucky's other arm was wrapped around his shoulder.

He was sobbing into the bitter and unforgiving embrace of the snow one moment and the next moment, into the solid heat of Bucky's chest. Tony couldn't be sure if he was groaning at the throbbing pain in his hands or at the calming words and the ridiculous terms of endearments whispered into his half-deaf ear, maybe both. Maybe neither.  

Bucky's hands and voice never once faltered as if they've done this a thousand times already, as if he knew every line and curve of Tony's body and mind. It was frightening and comforting at the same time.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Thank you so much for your lovely comments and kudos as always.  
> Er, I tried to continue the story but the thing is, I usually have no specific plot in my mind when I write so I mostly make up stuffs as I go along, this is also the reason why I rarely do multi-chapter, I just never seem to finish them.  
> Although I had already written half of this chapter when I posted the first one, I cut it out because this part made the story look more incomplete than it already did. However, since some of you were kind enough to encourage me to continue with this, I thought, you know, it wouldn't hurt to post the rest, and maybe add some more.  
> But I still feel unsure because I don't feel like this chapter adequately fits in with the first one and it now obviously has become an incomplete work which I'm not even sure if I'll complete. So, sorry for disappointing you if you wanted an clear-cut end.

 

 

For seven days after that, Steve avoided him like it was his mission. It shouldn't have been hard though because Tony helped as much as he could, keeping himself busy with projects and alco– , ah, mostly projects. It wasn't that he was angry. No, he was angry alright but it still wasn't the kind of anger that would make him not want to see Steve's face. Sadly, Tony wasn't sure if he was capable of that kind of anger. 

He spent the time thinking, sorting things out. The former, he did a lot, the latter, he was terrible at. So it was only expected that he wouldn't come out with anything worth a damn. He knew by now there was no way to unravel the mess that was his head. He concluded a long time ago that his head liked, no, _loved_ being a mess. It was just all over it.

On the eighth day, Tony found Steve in front of his workshop who looked like he hadn't slept for a week. He still looked good, though, Tony thought a bit sourly.

"Tony."

Steve said his name and somehow made it sound like an answer to a question Tony unknowingly asked.

When Tony met him for the first time, as in, met the very much alive and breathing Steve Rogers, he was rather taken by surprise by how blue the Captain's eyes were. Until then, Tony had unconsciously expected to see the same glossy tint of grey in them that he was used to see in the old and worn-out photos. Tony had always known what color they were, of course, but knowing the information and actually seeing them were two different things.

It'd have been much better if he'd been disappointed by that and other subtle details of disparity between the Captain America he hero-worshiped as a child and the honest young man with bright blue eyes who was struggling to do his best in a world of complete strangers.

 

But every time he inevitably glanced at Steve, it was something else that seemed to knock the breath out of him, something entirely different from disappointment. It was an odd feeling. Maybe it really was just another proof of how badly Howard messed him up, maybe he was only projecting like Steve said before. Tony didn't know but had long since given up trying to understand it. It was dangerous thing to look at these kind of thing too closely. (When you stare too deep into an abyss, the abyss starts to stare back at you, you know)

Steve dropped his head and Tony caught a glimpse of the other man biting sharply down on his lip just before. When Steve finally opened his mouth, his dry voice chafed Tony's ears.

"I'm sorry."

The point was, in any case, it meant Tony would always say, "It's alright," to him no matter what Steve did.

So he said, "It's alright."

Steve lifted his head up uncertainly. Tony smiled softly and watched the younger man's beautiful eyes brightening a little, the crease between his brows and the tension in his shoulders slowly seeping away.

"Can we talk?" Steve asked.

"If you want to." Tony shrugged his shoulders in that careless way of his.

Although Tony knew things wouldn't get better between them even if they did. Because there were things that would never change no matter how many hours they spent 'talking' to one another. He would never tell Steve about how he felt about the other man. Even if he tried to, he wasn't even sure if he could put them into words, if he could make Steve understand.

Besides, Tony would always try to save him even if Steve didn't want him to. He didn't particularly care if Steve thought it was Howard's brainwashing that made Tony run into a burning building. He didn't care if it actually _was_. He still would. This, at least, he understood with certainty.

 

-

 

"Do you think I'm really doing it?"

Later, Tony asked, for no other reason than he simply could. The blaring music in the workshop was enough to drown his voice so he didn't exactly expected a reply anyway, but Bucky didn't miss a beat before he responded,

"Doing what?"

"Seeing someone who doesn't exist in Steve?"

There was a brief yet marked pause which made him peer up at Bucky who was watching him back with an odd expression. Tony still hadn't figured out what it meant, only knew that it wasn't a sign of hostility like he initially suspected. He watched as Bucky's lips curved in a faint smile a second later.

"I think Steve's being an idiot."

There was something heartbreaking about the way his smile clashed with his weary eyes, Tony noted absently.

 

-

 

There were fine white lines on Tony's calloused hands, almost hidden between his natural palm lines but not quite. Bucky's fingers studied them as if he was trying to crack some secret codes buried under the uneven patch of skin. The air conditioner whirred softly in the background, barely audible in the otherwise hushed room.

Bucky's lips brushed the corner of Tony's in the same way he sometimes watched Tony, oddly intimate and inexplicably wistful. Then one of them moved to lock their lips properly into a kiss and it felt like an electrifying jolt and a overwhelming wash of relief all at the same time. The heavy memories inside Tony's head remained peacefully asleep, falling deeper and deeper into a slumber with each passing second. It felt amazingly comforting, so much so that Tony felt dizzy with every breath he took from the suddenly clear and crisp air.

Tony stared into the unreadable grey eyes, all thoughts and emotions wrapped up tightly under the stormy shade, and half-heartedly muttered,

"What was that for?"

Bucky quirked his brow, his face stayed more or less blank but there was a hint of playfulness that spread pleasant warmth inside Tony's stomach.

"You asked if Steve and I've ever kissed before."

Tony blinked disconnectedly. He wasn't exactly sure what they were even talking about. It had mostly been him babbling away to fill the silence with Bucky nodding along absent-mindedly. Words had been hardly anything more than excuses to keep each other's company without scaring away the other person over the inexplicable sense of comfort their presence provided.

"So that was you demonstrating how you kissed him?"

"It was more like me playing at Steve."

Bucky licked his lips with his still-raised eyebrow and got a laugh out of the disoriented-looking genius.

Although it wasn't like Tony could know for certain, he nevertheless protested, his voice kind of breathy from another bubbling laughter, "No way. That totally wasn't Steve."

"Oh?" Bucky smirked and smoothly closed the distance between them once more.

And with his breath ghosting over Tony's lips, he said, "Then let me try again."

 

-

 

Tony wasn't sure why Bucky decided to stick around but if anyone was complaining, it certainly wasn't him. But from time to time, he worried. Because he couldn't see what the younger man could get out of their seemingly one-sided arrangement. Bucky masterfully picked up the bits and pieces when Tony broke apart like a busted old machine that he was. If he did it out of pity or something else, Tony didn't know but he would get whatever was given to him. Being alone for so long made him only greedier, a tired man starved for any touch he could get, Tony mused with a sardonic smile.

On the other hand, he himself had nothing to offer to the other man. Sure, he had more money than he could spend but he learned a long time ago how useless they were when it came to making people stay. No matter what people said, it was a lesson Tony wasn't likely to forget.

The unsettling unbalance popped up into his head whenever he caught a wisp of the haunted air surrounding Bucky. It wasn't meant for him to see, he knew. But it couldn't be helped that Tony wanted to make it go away nonetheless. He liked seeing a smile on the kid's face as rare and illusive as it was. It was different from the dizzying compulsion to make things better when he was around an unsmiling and edgy Steve Rogers (though it might have something to do with the fact that Steve was seldom like that).

It was a quiet fluttering of words inside his throat, a mournfully frail nudge that made him ache a little inside. He experienced it again as he watched Bucky getting up from his seat, ready to slink away silently like he did the last few times Steve came down to Tony's workshop. JARVIS had just alerted both of them of the approaching presence of Captain Rogers.  

"Where are you going?" The question came out a little more pointedly than Tony intended.

Bucky looked taken aback and started to open his mouth, probably to say some excuse or other, then stopped himself. He held Tony's gaze for a moment as if he was looking for an appropriate answer in the other man's eyes and asked in a thoughtful voice,

"Do you need me to stay?"

They both knew there was no 'need' for him to stay. Steve and Tony were still on ( _fragile_ ) good terms but there wasn't any particular reason for Bucky to leave the two of them alone, either. He put down the screwdriver in his left back on the table and narrowed his eyes at the look of discomfort flickering across Bucky's face.  

"Are you avoiding Steve? Did you two have a lovers' quarrel or something?"

Bucky seemed to be caught between exasperation and amusement, then, opted for a neutral frown.

"'Course not."

Tony raised his eyebrows empathetically and made a sweeping gesture toward the chair Bucky was sitting a minute ago with his hand.

"Then sit back down. Your jumpiness is making me nervous."

Bucky gingerly sat down as he was told and the elevator pinged as if on cue, revealing Steve who flashed a brilliant smile at the unexpected sight of his best friend.

"Hey, I was wondering where you were."

Tony shook his head as he watched Bucky smiling back at his friend, feeling unsure about what was happening inside the pretty head. At least, Bucky appeared to be perfectly at ease now with Steve in the room. Tony deliberately didn't lowered the volume of the music since it was quite fun to watch them having to shout their words at each other over the roar of the speakers and pretended not to hear Steve's protests, turning away to bring up the blueprint of Captain America's new uniform that he wanted Steve to take a look at. There was still the faint nagging feeling in the back of his mind but he stowed it away for later.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary from X Ambassadors - Unsteady


End file.
